A New Beginning to the End of the World
by MiniBlackRaven
Summary: An epilogue to the end of the first installment of the Walking Dead. Speculative writing as of Jan 2013. Reviews and feedback welcomed.


Not much time and not much to go on. That's how it had always been since that fateful day. If it hadn't been for him, she'd probably be walking around aimlessly like those puppet-like corpses.

With a quick scan of the streets, a young woman raced across the empty lot. Within seconds, she was hugging a tall brick wall with the back of her dull red jacket. Repeating the routine that had become so natural to her over the years it was almost scary. Never in a million years would she have been this cautious when going grocery shopping. Then again, she didn't have to worry about being jumped by the dead back then either. She silently looked around the edge of the building for the enemy. Her dark and highly trained eyes quickly analyzed the situation.

Dulling car skeletons, rusting from years of weathering in the open, lay under a thin layer of undisturbed dust. The daunting rust colored buildings looked down upon the poor carcasses with sympathy. How many had they seen come, but not leave this now desolate wasteland?

Once closed shops and windows now welcomed the warming season with shattered and broken storefronts. Long gone were the raiders looking for food or help, and up came springs of green, breaking out from their long time slumber beneath the now gone and ancient sounds of the busy intersection. They were the only things that lived here now. They were the only things she saw moving.

An amateur would have let out a sigh of relief, but she was no amateur. Trying her best not to crack the already shattered glass underneath her thick hiking boots, she slipped into the stagnant store.

How many years had she been doing this? It had been a long time since she had seen an updated calendar, and even longer since she had a real birthday. Those peaceful days of blowing out tiny candles on a simple white frosted cake seemed so far behind. As she searched underneath heaps of white frosted rubble, she tried to remember what they had advised her to forget.

"Don't remember birthdays, remember seasons."

Let's see…

Last fall was the year they had learned store their food for the winter after what seemed like hundreds of failed attempts and experiences with food poison. The year before was when they actually came upon the apple orchard. The year before that, they had wandered north in search for a place with more supplies. And the years before that were the year of constant running. The year before that was when her uncle had died. All of this in the few years before Jeffery Lee was born. The years before Jeffery Lee was born…

She stopped, her hand inches from picking up a dusty glass jar that had stood the course of time. She didn't like thinking about that year too much. Too many sad memories, but so many good ones too. The familiar pain of sorrow tugged at her heart as blurry images of the people she had known and come to love surfaced in her memory. Many of the grownup faces she had seen through those dark days gave her comfort with fond memories. Some faces were easier to remember than others, but a few in particular stuck out.

The motherly figures that had taken care of her, that annoying boy who blamed her for things he had done, the tall kid who, while skittish, had a heart of gold, and… him.

Just thinking about him caused her vision to blur. With a quick wipe of the back of her hand, she tried to focus once again. Everything she was today was because of him. All those hours watching him lead hadn't gone unnoticed.

Even now, she could remember his deep reverberating voice. Way back then, it reminded her of cool dark chocolate running down a gentle river. His calm and soothing voice along with his sturdy body were often the things that helped her sleep at night. It made her feel that much safer knowing that her guardian angel was leading her home. Those memories were what kept her going during her darkest of days.

Whenever she was at her lowest, she would remember his soft words of comfort as they rolled along the track of life to their next destination. She would remember the occasional cussing too and how much she disliked that, but she would also remember the warm feeling of her hand in his as they watched the entire world fall to shit before them. Thing was, whenever everyone else had lost it, he came out of the darkness and guided them out and back into the light.

'Ironic all things considering,' she though, retrieving the last salvageable item in the store. She placed the last item in her backpack and evaluated her load. There wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. And considering it had been at least six years since walkers became known for something else besides sweat bands and ear buds, it was a pretty good haul.

She considered making a bit of noise on her way out, just to see the damage of the place, but chose to move on. 'Might as well count my good luck for what it was worth,' she though, skipping out of town.

Crossing over bramble, a river, and uncounted miles of overgrowth, came the sweet smell of stew. The invisible sent wafted out from a rundown ranch house and, thankfully, only attracted hungry humans.

The house was in a bit of a shamble when they had first arrived. There were bullet holes in the wall and bodies on the floor along with the typical trail of blood. Six years ago, it would have shocked them, but it was nothing they couldn't fix. True, the group had seen better, but after so many years of wandering they had also seen a lot worse. At the very least, it was a roof over their head and a place safe enough to raise a small family. In this situation, what more could you ask for?

A young boy about five was playing with some insects when he saw the faded red jacket amongst the sea of green. "Mommy!" he shouted, forgetting about his playthings and running into the house. "She's back. Big sis made it back!"

A tired looking, but still alive Christa poked her head out of the front door. "Find anything today Clem?"

The young woman removed the faded purple baseball cap revealing a small bush of black curly hair. "A few things," she said, with a smile as she dusted some of the rubble off her treasured hat. "But I came up empty when it came to walkers."

"Mommy, can I please go out with Clem next time she goes into town? I'll be good and quite," begged Jeffery, pulling down on his mother's old sweat pants.

"I still don't think it's a good idea," said Omid, coming from behind the house. "What happens if a walker sneaks up behind you?"

"Then Clementine will smash its brains, no problem!" he proclaimed, wielding a thin stick as if it was the ultimate walker protection. Eyes full of pure intent he swung his prize weapon back and forth at the invisible foes attacking him from all sides.

"I don't know…"

Clementine smiled at the childlike display. Even if she didn't remember him that clearly, his ambition was similar to her forced upon childhood playmate. And, although he was born after the darkest of days, Clementine could only conclude that children would be children no matter how fucked up the world was.

"Maybe when you can shoot better than me, I'll take you into town," she said, climbing up the porch and into the house.

"No fair!" complained the boy from the front of the house. "You learned to shoot when you were nine. Cheater!"

'And whose fault do you think that is?' she silently asked her step-daddy in heaven.

'Who, me?' asked the imaginary voice in her head.

With a simple smile a teenage Clementine replied, 'Yes, you Lee. Who else would be dumb enough to take on a kid at the beginning of the end?'


End file.
